In the crumbling city of Liora, where the streets whispered with the ghosts of unspoken apologies, there lived a pigeon unlike the others. His feathers were not the dull gray of his kin, but a shimmering silver—as if dipped in starlight. The people called him Rime , and they said he carried letters for those who had no courage to send them.
It began with the baker’s wife, who tucked a note into Rime’s tiny leg band: "I miss your laughter. Come home." The next morning, her runaway son stood at the door, the very letter clutched in his hand.
Then came the old bookseller, who whispered a confession into Rime’s ear: "I stole your favorite novel when we were boys. Forgive me." That evening, his childhood rival—now a frail old man—knocked on his shop, holding the yellowed book and smiling through tears.
But Rime’s most important letter came from Elias the Clockmaker , a man whose pride had kept him silent for decades. He wrote a single line— "I was wrong." —and tied it to Rime’s leg. The pigeon took flight… but did not return.
For three days, Elias stared at the sky. On the fourth, a silver feather drifted down onto his windowsill. When he stepped outside, he found Sofia , the sister he hadn’t spoken to in forty years, standing in the square. In her hand was the letter.
"Your bird pecked at my window until I woke," she said. "Stubborn thing."
And though the city never learned where Rime went, some say his feathers still appear—tucked in the pockets of those who need one last chance to speak.